whispers
by Miaka Neko
Summary: Aida fan-fiction. A hundred lifetimes can dull memory, but not love as two strangers meet again. The PG-13 is for language. Please read and review.
1. something missing

Whispers  
  
By Miaka  
  
whispers/1: something missing  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Aida don't belong to me. I suppose Ryan partially does, but not really. Author's notes at end.  
  
Something is missing. I don't know why I feel so lonely here of all places. I'm in a museum, for God's sake. Hundreds of people all around me, all smiling and going about their way, absorbed in everything around them here. I don't know why I feel out of place. I'm always the guy who is making the jokes, making sure everyone feels like they fit in. But here.I'm more of a part of the museum relics than the people looking at them.  
  
I'm being stupid again. Hell knows what I'm talking about, because I'm not lonely at all. Okay, so I don't have a girlfriend at the moment, but I have a couple of my brothers living in the city, plus a bunch of friends whom I'm still pretty tight with after college. I like my job, too.  
  
But something is missing. I don't know how to explain it. My mother keeps on telling me I need to find a nice Jewish girl. Probably not a bad idea, because girls keep my mind off of this crap for a while, even if things end a little ugly. My father tells me that I need to be realistic in finding someone to date, and he's probably right. My friend Nate tells me I need to get laid. He's also probably right. Maybe a girlfriend would help. I've been acting weirder and weirder lately. Ugh, I hate the winter.  
  
My watch reads 4:10. Exactly ten minutes after 4, aka when my brother is supposed to meet me. I haven't seen him or the kids in a few weeks, and Jerry finally got me to come down here. I'm not a big museum fan, to be honest. The air conditioning is always too cold (and I don't understand why it has to be on in February). But the kids wanted to see this new Egyptian exhibit really badly. Sarah and Mike are cute, but they're scary when they want something. It's easiest just to go along.  
  
Anyway, they're late, and I'm just standing here at the entrance to the Egyptian Wing thinking too much. Bad for a guy's health. I'm starting to really wish I had brought a book. I keep telling myself not to check out this wing yet since I might as well save my boredom until the kids come. But considering how close my perch is to the air conditioner, I guess it can't hurt to look. I just won't read the blurbs yet.  
  
For all the money that was supposedly shelled out on this exhibit (according to the Times), it looks pretty nice. They even made an imprint of this Egyptian symbol on the wall, which is actually pretty cool looking. Looks like an eye or something. In the middle of the room there's this big, well.box. That's the only way to describe it. I'm in no rush, so I make my way over towards it. One side has been taken out and you can see inside. Strange.  
  
I stoop down to get a closer look. It's really not that big. It's covered in a big glass case, so I can't really see that much. I allow myself to cheat and look at the blurb below. "Most likely used as a tomb for traitors or poor servants. Bones were found inside when originally excavated, but were too far deteriorated for further information to be obtained."  
  
Burial. My breath gets a little tighter, a little thinner. I used to be terrified of graveyards when I was a little kid. Not because I'm afraid of ghosts or anything like that, but it was just the idea of being trapped underground. I've always been scared of not being able to get out. I'm actually scared of taking the subway. I mean, what if the tunnel caved in and you couldn't get out? Stupid, I guess, but I do keep in shape by walking to work.  
  
Traitors. So that would mean execution. I wonder if they got buried alive. Doh, I'm being stupid. Who could do something that terrible to someone?  
  
But shit, I can barely breathe now. I should know better than to think about this stuff. I look at the tomb again. It's not like it happened to me, anyway. Why am I getting so freaked out?  
  
Time to look at the rest of the museum, instead of standing there gaping at the big blue box like an idiot. I look up, and find myself staring into brown eyes. A black girl, probably about the same age as me, is looking at the tomb also. She catches my eye, and we both smile. Wow.she's hot. What a guy thing to say, I know. But it's true. She's got a slender body, but not disgustingly skinny like some of the girls I see in the city. She's wearing this full length white dress. She's smiling at me, and I feel like I could burst with giddiness. I don't know why, but she reminds me of a princess.  
  
Okay, Ryan, get a grip on yourself. Turn away from the complete stranger. People get arrested for stalking in cases like this. Don't need to add a fine for that on top of paying back college loans. Keep on walking towards the statue of the pharaoh (and try not to make an idiot of yourself in the process).  
  
The black girl keeps looking at the tomb for a minute, then looks at the statue of the archer. That's right, look away. Please. Don't embarrass yourself. I look up at the statue of the pharaoh, hoping for some sort of sympathy. Instead, cold eyes of stone stare back at me. Strange, they look kind of sad. And lonely. I bet she didn't get to get out much.  
  
Well, neither do I. My job keeps me in the city most of the time. I love being here, though. I grew up with my mom in rural Ohio, and I was relieved when I could get out and explore someplace else. New York City has more or less done the trick (I could spend a lifetime seeing the whole place), but I'm having the urge to do something new, not as confined as New York. No ties of time and space. What the hell am I talking about?  
  
I look at my watch again. 4:15. Where is Jerry? I sigh and look around the museum. And wow.there She is again, looking at a statue of a woman carrying a basket-  
  
Why am I being like this? I need a girlfriend. Badly. I need to stop obsessing over random women in museums. Obsessing? Hey, I'm allowed to look at girls, aren't I? I look over at a blond checking out a weapon's display. It's normal. I'm a guy, and I'm allowed to check out women.  
  
Is She looking at me? No, just my imagination. What's wrong with me, anyway? There's something missing. Something is threatening to burst out inside of me. It's always been there, but now it's coming to the surface. Something feels so painfully familiar. God, I hate this. I like my life without complications, nice and simple. Logical. Not like this, not getting suddenly scared at nothing at all. I want to run, but I'm locked down in my own body, trapped. Just like if I was buried-  
  
No! Can't think about it, can't think about it.  
  
I catch the princess's eye again, and my heart skips. Princess? Dammit! I look at the tomb with fear. Fear.  
  
What's wrong with me?  
  
Author's notes: I'm trying out something new. Yes, I'm still working on Elaborate Lives, but it's coming slowly. Feedback is good! Don't worry, there's more than this. In case anyone is wondering, there is no relationship between "Ryan" in this story and the same character in the beginning of Elaborate Lives. They both are reincarnations of Radames, but that's about it. This shouldn't be too long (a couple of parts at most). I wanted to put something out since I'm going anywhere with Elaborate Lives these days. Please give me feedback! 


	2. promise

whispers/2: promise  
  
Disclaimer: Radames definitely doesn't belong to me. He (and all of the rest of the Aida gang) belong to Disney, Hyperion Theatricals, etc.  
  
He won't let me inside, and I suppose I don't blame him. Back when I was still alive any of my men who heard things in their heads, well, we'd give him a couple of bottles of wine and shut him up in the barracks for a couple of days. It seemed to do the trick.  
  
But now I'm the voice. Ryan is a nice kid, but he's too logical, too scared. He likes his life as simple as possible. Of course. How could he want anything else when he's had my experiences? He doesn't remember, but he knows the feelings just the same. And that's what he wants to forget.  
  
I don't blame him. All I ever wanted was for things to be simple. I had exploring, something I loved, and I was happy. Then they took that away from me. But then there was Aida, and gods, that was all I ever needed. I didn't want the damned throne, or the military post, and I could even give up traveling. I just wanted Aida.  
  
I'm not a good person. I spent most of my life imprisoning and killing innocents. I just did it because it was part of the deal if I wanted to explore, but I did it none the less. Maybe I didn't know any better, but that doesn't change the fact that I did terrible things.  
  
But I repented at the end. I changed. I died doing one good thing, and apparently the gods haven't sent me to hell yet. I don't know how redemption works, but maybe even though I was late, they're letting me slide.  
  
He won't ever forget it, though. Ryan is a nice kid who has never even gotten a parking ticket, let alone hurt anyone. But he always feels like he's doing something wrong, just the same, like he has something to repent for. I guess in a way it's good because he's making up for my wrongs, but it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't want to remember. And as long as he keeps repressing the memories, I'll never find my Aida again.  
  
Maybe I'm wrong and this is hell and the gods are laughing at me right now. I don't know if she's still on the earth or not. If there is a heaven like the Christians in this era say, then Aida would be the first person through the gates. Probably running with a smile on her face, her sandals kicked off. God, I hope so. But there's still a part of me that wants her to be in this world. I want to find her so badly.  
  
Me? I'm nowhere. I don't think this is Hell, but it's not Heaven either. What am I, if I really exist at all? Some left over fragments of another life? I used to be Radames, but now I'm just memories. What am I to do besides occasionally waken in the edges of another's dream, only to disappear again with his denial?  
  
I didn't know how much it would hurt to die. Death on the battlefield never scared me because I knew it would be fast. I suppose it only took us hours, but it felt like days. It was a comfort to have Aida, but it was also horrifying to see her dying even as I was going through the same process. She was so strong, even at the end. The light in her eyes never completely dulled. I still thank Amneris, wherever her spirit is now, for letting us be together until the end. But it doesn't matter, because in the end we still died under the sands of Egypt. We're torn apart, no matter how close are our physical bodies.  
  
I guess my death was my fault. I'm too proud, too irrational. Both have always gotten me in trouble, and they did until the end. Maybe I should have begged for my life. But she still would have died, and I would have hated myself for it. Aida screamed at me in our prison cell after our sentence. She said that I was an idiot for not taking the chance, and that my death wasn't what she wanted. We made amends quickly afterwards and I know she felt the same comfort I did in dying together, but she never approved my decision either.  
  
But I sealed my fate long before I cut the rope. I think some part of me knew what would happen in the end the first time we kissed that night. Even with my usual idealism, I should have known that it couldn't have worked. Maybe I couldn't have known that I was going to be a traitor, but I knew things would go terribly wrong.  
  
I didn't want to die. I just wanted to escape from that life. Gods, I was finally starting to live in that week. And I did, if just for brief moments. I'm still amazed at how quickly it all ended. It's been three thousand years and the pain is still fresh.  
  
But I have a second chance. I get to look for that life, for Aida. I don't know how this happened, that I've become this way. I'm still part of my own soul, but I'm detached. Everything got so hazy in the end. There was a light, and I knew I was supposed to be heading towards it. But I didn't want to. I wanted to stay with Aida. I didn't care if I was dying or not. But gods, I was being pulled so fast and so hard that I lost hold of her. But...I didn't go towards the light. Soon everything was gone, even my body.  
  
I think the first rebirth was the hardest. It was immediately after I died, of course. I had the most connection with these memories then, and the most control over my soul. It should have been easy to find my Aida, but I had the bad luck to be born to the other side of the world. I tried everything I could, but I couldn't even begin to search. There were so many people, how could I?  
  
It got harder after that. My memories of that life became more and more faded, until I really stopped remembering at all. Now Radames only exists in dreams. I try to hang on, but it's nearly impossible now. Ryan is starting to think of other things, quickly banishing any of these thoughts. I will once again fade back into the sea of someone else's life. Gods, can I go on forever like this?  
  
No, I won't give up. You feel so close sometimes, Aida, like maybe we both do exist in the saMme world. I made you a promise. I don't know how many lifetimes have passed, but if it takes me a thousand life times more and if I have to keep on going until all of the memories disappear, I will find you.  
  
Author's notes: Please, feedback! I still don't have any idea what to do with Elaborate Lives :/ But at least I'm getting this out. 


	3. familiarity

whispers/3: familiarity 

Disclaimer: As usual, Aida, Radames, and their reincarnations don't belong to me. They belong to Disney, etc. 

I'm trying to contain my excitement. I mean, it's just not normal for someone to be jumping up in down in a museum over the age of ten. And here I am at the age of twenty-four about ready to burst out of my skin. But…the new wing is finally open! After almost three years of construction! It takes all of my effort not to break into a skip.   
The one major benefit of NYC is all of the museums. It almost (emphasis on the almost) makes up for the traffic, the crowds, etc. I like Broadway and all, but I joke with my friends that it's the museums that keep me here. Well, that and that I have another year of grad work left at NYU.   
New York City is crazy, loud. And yet there's always a sense of peace when I come to this place. Everything in here has already had its time, so its like the building itself isn't in a rush to get anywhere. I'm not in a rush to get anywhere (well, with the exception of today. Not being in a hurry doesn't mean that I don't like to take the extra energy to bring out my inner ten year old). But in all seriousness, I can actually breathe and hear what's going on inside my head. I don't know if I was necessarily born a history nut, but I like the environment and if I'm here long enough some knowledge usually seeps into my brain. Out of all of the museums, this one is my favorite (it's the New York City Museum of Ancient History, but the way).   
The sign overhead reads "New-Egyptian Wing!" when I enter it. Wow. When the museum committee decided to put a lot of money into this, they weren't kidding! The wall has this gigantic engraving of the Eye of Horus on it. An accurate one, at that. (Believe me, the Eye of Horus was my final paper in one of my college history classes). The sheer size of the new wing amazes me. I could probably spend all afternoon looking at everything in here.   
In an effort to curb my excitement, I force myself to logically start at the beginning. Hung up on one of the walls is a large glass case with a collection of different Egyptian weapons. Bows, arrows, several different kinds of swords…   
"I wish I had one of those…," a young kid next to me says in awe, pointing to a particularly sharp sword.   
The expression on his face is priceless, and his tone of voice makes me smile. "You know, your sword is only good for as long as you can hold onto it."   
"Huh?" the boy asks, looking up at me. He's incredibly cute. Makes me rethink about getting married and starting a family.   
I nonchalantly look the other way. Just when the kid loses his focus, I reach down and grab an imaginary "sword" from him. "Like this!" I shriek.   
The kid lets out a short yelp, and then breaks into laughter. An older woman (his mother, probably) looks over. I grow a little embarrassed, but she just smiles.   
I bend down a little so that I'm closer to the kid's height. "If that was your sword, you would have been in a lot of trouble right now. Nothing like having your enemy by sword point and then switching the outcome."   
Now his mother is chuckling quietly to herself. "I'm impressed," she says. "Where did you learn that?"   
"From my fath-" I start to say, and then cut myself off. I don't have a father. He died when I was five. "I come here a lot, so I get a sneak peak at some of the inscriptions in here." I point to the sign by the weapons display. "It's somewhere in there."   
"What's your name?" the boy asks.   
"I'm Crystal," I explain, stooping down to his height. "This is one of my favorite places."   
"Mara, Joey, are you ready?" yells a voice from the other side of the Egyptian Wing. The mother and son turn and recognize a middle-aged man. The boy raises his eyebrows mischieviously at me before leaving to join his father.   
I glance quickly at the description of the weaponry. There's nothing there, of course, about how to steal a weapon from someone. Who would want to take the liability risk of suggesting how to steal something sharp to an eight-year-old? All the blurb talks about is the dating of the swords. I don't know where I'm getting this from. How to steal a swords. I'm going to have to look that one up at the NYU library. I must have learned it in some class.   
But I know I'm not making it up and I know I didn't learn it in a class or from some discussion with another grad student. There's some gut part of me that knows it. This isn't the first time, either. I think I unnerved my grandmother when I started telling her what goes into blue dye. At first my family just thought I was very smart. Now they just think I'm weird. The actual thoughts don't scare me, but I don't understand them. Don't understand where they come from, and I've been getting them more and more over the last couple of months. Sometimes it's as if they're not coming from my own mind.   
In an effort to distract myself, I move on. I pass a life-sized statue of a female pharaoh. She bears a striking resemblance to someone I know, but I can't quite place her. I'm going to have to look through my high school yearbook when I get home, that's probably where she comes from. Er, that's where she reminds me of someone.   
In the center of the room is a typical Egyptian tomb. I learned about them in my freshmen year of college. They've always spooked me a little, especially ones like this. You can tell from the small size and lack of decoration that this one was probably made for executions.   
I hunch down so I can get a better look at the inside. I guess it must have happened pretty quickly. Compared to how whoever buried there could have been tortured to death for days, being buried alive couldn't have been…that bad.   
But it would have been dark. To die that way alone. And that thought frightens me more than anything else.   
When I stand upright again, I find myself suddenly staring into the face of a white guy about my age who has also just looked up from the tomb. I feel a bit awkward, so I just smile. He smiles back, then blushes and turns away. He looks a little familiar too.   
Well, that's one vote for the new dress, Crys, I tell myself. My dating life has been rather dead as of late, so any support I get is nice. He's kind of cute, I guess, but not the type I usually go for.   
To avoid any more awkwardness I look back inside the tomb. For a minute, I feel as if I can hear something. Whispers. "Take my hand. I'm right here with you…" says a man's voice. A chill moves through my body. I feel sad and lonely and panicked and desperate all at once, and yet there's something about it that I want to stay near, feel closer to this…something I've been missing…   
Quickly enough it's over, and I try to dismiss it the best I can. I walk over to a statue of an archer, trying to regain my previous routine and excitement. Yet the edges of the feeling linger. I look over at the man I ran into before by the tomb. What is it about him? Where have I seen him before?   
I don't understand the things I'm feeling. I close my eyes for a moment. My sense of previous of excitement is dulled by this new emotion. Sadness, that's what it is, I realize. But over what?   
He looks up and meets my eyes. I feel a strange sense of calm, a strange sense of peace for a split second. What is it about his eyes?   
I look back down, forcing myself to move onto another exhibit. But even as I do this I hear whispers again. "No ties of time and space…"   
What are these things that are happening in my mind? No one else seems to be effected by them in the museum, nor anywhere else in my life. Is this what I want? What's I'm looking for? Is this why I'm compelled to keep on being afraid of the dark without reason? Because of some unknown connection to an equally unknown source? I've wanted this…whatever it is, for a long time now, both consciously and otherwise. And I don't even know what it is, except it's something that right now is lingering on the edge of my mind. God, what am I saying?   
This defies everything I've ever known. It in itself doesn't scare me, but it tears apart everything that seems to be real or logical.   
Accidentally, blue eyes meet my own again. My heart skips a beat, but not in girlish admiration. For what reason then, I don't know. I should get some lunch, I think to myself. I've been sick lately and if I don't eat it will just get worse. I have the rest of the afternoon to come back.   
And yet some part of me still wants to stay here. 

-------------------- 

Author's notes: I've decided to finish Whispers before moving onto Elaborate Lives (don't worry, only two parts left). I've given myself the deadline of Sunday to turn these into my beta reader (to whom I owe many cookies and thanks to for her invaluable advice), so it shouldn't take too long. Stay tuned! And please give me feedback. Definite motivator for writing more. 

I'm not following the exact choreography of what happens in the museum scene, mostly because it would drive me crazy to figure out exactly what they're doing at every point in time and it doesn't give me very much creative flexibility. I have, however, tried to take some inspiration from what actually happens. Like the first time Aida and Radames see each other, it is when they both look up from the tomb and Radames does check her out. However, I have Aida being much more giddy than she actually is in the show (where she is much more calm). Bear with me.   



	4. only thing that matters

Part 4: only thing that matters  
  
A thousand lifetimes is a long time. I have been constantly reincarnated during that time, but there's always this part of me that dwells outside of each new form. A part that has had a long time to reflect. I know nothing now that I didn't know our last day alive when we suffocated to death, and yet at the same time I know so much more. Crazy, isn't it?  
  
I used to wonder why I didn't just pass on to a better place. At any time I wished, or wish now, I could and can leave this last reincarnation behind. She would finish her natural life with a soul, but then there would be no more connection between myself and the mortal coil.  
  
I can hear them calling out for me to join them constantly. My people. My family, Nehebka, Mereb...some people question if there is a better place after death. I know there is, because I can feel it when they beg for me to join them. I want to so badly, and there are times when I'm tempted just to give up.  
  
It's taken me three thousand years to know why I've waited for three thousand years. It all comes down to one person. It all comes down to Radames.  
  
He wasn't my first love. I was a dutiful daughter, true. But even a Nubian princess occasionally fooled around. I had fallen in love before, mostly with nobles of my class, but the occasional countryman as well. Some were more serious than others, but needless to say Radames wasn't my first.  
  
I wasn't planning to fall in love. I didn't understand it, and I was terrified. At first, every time I gave him some form of sympathy, it was to prove to myself what a terrible a person he was. Gods, I hated him back so much for everything he had done to me and my people. When I yelled at him when we were alone in the banquet hall to change his own life, I was deep down hoping that he would come after me and punish me, just so I could justify my hate for him. I saw a brief glimpse of humanity in his anger that night, and it scared me. How could a monster have emotions, let alone ones I could relate to?  
  
But he wasn't a monster. Stubborn, yes, and well taught in the ways of greed, but willing to change and love. Everything he did after that night proved to me how human he was, and how much he was like me. If he had just taken me, forced me to make love with him, it would have been easier for my troubled mind to ponder. But I came on my own. I was in love, too.  
  
Here was someone like me, who knew what it was like to feel passion but also knowing duty. Someone who wasn't afraid to love what was forbidden for both of us, and helped me to feel it as well. The Nubians loved Aida, but they loved Princess Aida. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to love me for anything else. And yet Radames loved me for everything else, loved me for everything deep down inside.  
  
In the end, all that mattered was love. My "honor" for Nubia didn't. I was so scared what my father would say or what my people would think that I lost track of what was important. I lost track of my own heart. It pains me even now how stupid I was.  
  
Don't misunderstand me when I say this, however. When I say what mattered was love, that includes my love for Nubia. My mother, my father, my brothers and sisters. My friends, and their families, and the people who cared for me, both as Aida and the princess. They were worth protecting. Not pride, or the whims of two constantly fighting nations over the dirt of land, but real people whom I loved and would die for, which I did in the end. My decision wasn't an easy one, but it was a love I had to protect. That I feel proud of, and I only regret that it was a hard choice and that I had to betray Radames in the process.  
  
In the end, hundreds or thousands of years later, both Egypt and Nubia fell. I did what I did to protect the people I loved, and it makes me happy that they could leave out their lives in peace. But now they've passed on, and Aida and Radames have faded from just about all memory. Except for mine. The past has let them go, and they've been able to move on. But I can't. I still want this.  
  
But who knows if I will ever find Radames? The population of this world keeps growing greater and greater. What are the chances, really, that two souls can run into each other again? One in a thousand? A million? Never? Is the sheer logistics of it impossible?  
  
People are born and then are thrown off this mortal coil faster than I could blink my eyes in life. They eat, they go out to their jobs, they sleep, they make love, they fight, and they eventually die. So many wasted lives falling off the face on the earth into oblivion and never realizing that they're awake. That they're alive.  
  
At least I got to taste it, to feel it once. I may have known Radames for barely two weeks, but I loved him more fiercely than anything I ever had before in my life or have in any lives since. I've fulfilled my duty, I've fulfilled my love for my family and my country.  
  
Now I know I have to fulfill my duty for myself. No, it's not even a duty. It's what I want to do. It's taken me three thousand years not to be scared, but I'm not any more. I love Radames. That's all the reason I need. It's as simple as that. I found him once, and through some hellish/heavenly miracle I have this one in a million chance of finding him again.  
  
And that's why I won't give up.  
  
Author's notes:  
  
I know, I know. I said I'd have this done several weeks ago. However, I realized several weeks ago that what I had almost finished writing was pure mushy crap. It's taken me longer as a result to finish this part, but I feel better about it.  
  
I'm debating whether to work on the final chapter of this or the next part of Elaborate Lives. Either way, I hope to get another one done soon.  
  
Keep the feedback coming! 


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